P-O-O-P-E-D. Yes girls, there is a nasty place we all reach on occasion. And whoa, does it stink! For me, it was one of those weeks at the office that managed to drain me of every last drop of anything even resembling a human — let alone that of the female variety (they call it “dog tired” for a reason). Fortunately, the hubby was able to pitch in at home with a little extra parenting… or should I say babysitting? Grrrr.
It all started when I lumbered my utterly-depleted-self into our house at 9:30 on Friday night. I was clearly ready for a glass of wine…well okay, three. I barely made it in the door when the hubby shot me a look. You know, THE LOOOOOOK. So I’m thinking: “Who’s sick? What broke? What did your crazy family do this time?”
“We’re out of toilet paper and wipes,” he whimpers. I stop. “Huh?” Keep in mind, I’d put in about a 55-hour week at the office. He, about 20-hours shy of that. (Translation: TWENTY hours I didn't have). Hubby: “We’re more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Juggling & Struggling, On The Career Track, Time Is A Four Letter Word
Sure I like to bitch about my tough WoMo existence – the long hours away from home and kid, late nights, hellish commute, etc. – and all tough often I cast a longing glance over the fence at what can seem to be greener pastures of a stay-at-home mom life. But it took just one comment this week from a coworker who just returned to work after maternity leave to highlight one of the few bright spots of continuing with the career vs. mommy track.
“It’s actually kind of nice to have something more interesting to share with Jeff when he gets home at night than, ‘Kaylie spit up twice today,” or “picked up razors at Target this morning,’ you know?” she explained, almost apologetically, as if finding something positive about returning to work were a crime.
I get it. One great part about going out into the world everyday to attack such heady challenges as how to sell more sugar-free gum or get more heads in my clients’ hotel beds is the ability to come home and gab about more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, On The Career Track
Later oh-nine! Tomorrow night I'm gonna kiss 2009 goodbye with fervor (score one for the hubby). I’m actually coming out of the year relatively unscathed — though I can’t say that for a lot of folks. One of the hardest things I recall, other than stock losses, is the number of friends I have lost to divorce. One, two, three, four, five… and that’s only those involving infidelity, I haven’t even gotten to the mutually unhappy couples that decided it was time to throw in the monogrammed towel. I suppose when you live in the U.S. (with the highest divorce rate in the world) and you’re over 40, you can expect to start seeing your friends jimmy the old wedlock. Divorce (and cheating) isn’t big news — Tiger Woods, anyone?— until it starts happening to your own circle of friends. Then, life gets a little more complicated. Who do you invite to your next barbeque, Jon or Kate?
I’m certainly no expert on commitment, and truth be told, the “D-word” may have leaked out in those really bad, sleep deprived new more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, On The Career Track, WoMoLists
I just returned from a much needed family vacay. Dare I say? It was a blissful, storm-free week. Relaxing. Peaceful, even. Well, maybe I’m getting carried away. I never picked up my book (wishful thinking), I only made it to the gym twice (again, wishful thinking) and despite my best attempts to “unplug,” I did have calls and emails to attend to. But these days my expectations for family trips are quite low, so scoring a five star stay is pretty easy. (Given the 3-year old’s talent for screaming and throwing things, we’ve been a little timid about leaving the safety and security of our home for more than two or three days).
Did I mention that pre-kids I had the travel bug? Giving up foreign jaunts hasn’t been easy. So maybe it’s a good thing that I spent much of my twenties adventuring my way onto every continent except Antarctica (MF cold). In 2000, my last hurrah with the hubby was rambling down the east coast of Africa for a month. We got home, then got preggers…bye-bye exotic foreign more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Time Is A Four Letter Word, Travel Tales: Are We There Yet?
It’s not all woe is me in WoMoland. There are a few little advantages we enjoy over our stay-at-home sisters, such as …
- Coffee and the newspaper (or CNN online) before starting the day instead of “Dora” or “Diego”
- An office full of younger colleagues who will indulge your “Twilight” obsession without ever turning the topic to preschools or potty training
- The ability to greet your husband at the end of the day somewhat gussied up in make-up and heels (rather than smudged with applesauce, bare-faced in sneakers!)
- The world’s best excuse for postponing indefinitely the need to learn to cook
- Escape from dull playdates with your kids’ classmates whose moms bore you to tears
Okay, it's not such a long list, but maybe you can add a few to my list?
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Just For Laughs, Looks: Is This Mirror Working?, SAHM Sisters, WoMoLists
Blame it on good old Isla Vista, the post-adolescent playground by the sea where both Marcie and I retreated for four years of kamikaze shots and keggers on “DP” (Del Playa, for those who care) while ostensibly earning a degree from UC Santa Barbara. For some reason, both of us girls raised in the heart of suburbia took our own sweet time getting around to the business of growing up, let alone reaching mommyhood … and I took much longer than she did.
Unlike Marcie’s luck with her now hubby, none of my UCSB stoner surfer boyfriends endured far past graduation. Maybe it was the colder waters of Northern California or the decidedly less laid-back culture of early ‘90s San Francisco, but somehow the sandy blond boys were nowhere to be found in the City by the Bay … or at least in the preppy Marina district where I lived for most of my twenties. For seven years post college graduation, I stumbled through any number of bad boyfriends and even worse break-ups. There was the snowboarder more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk
“You have no idea what I am going through”… there’s always that person who seems to hint (more than a few times, downright complain) about how difficult his/her life is. Their child is a “handful” or “has more energy” than yours. “I want one of those,” as if you’ve never had to chase your 18-month old around for 2-hours because the little tyke just found out how much cooler feet are for getting places. So actually, I do know what you’re going through. In fact, almost every parent on the planet knows (I had to say “almost” because I had to factor in the slackers out there that don’t give a crap...check back later, more to come on lame-ass loser parents). Whether you have an angel or a little devil, the choice to raise another human being is a 24/7 commitment complete with sleepless nights, dog-tired days, scheduling conflicts, cancelled vacays, puke, snot, poo, pee, tantrums, weeping jags, worry, fear, exhaustion, humiliation and moments of dementia. All the things you likely haven’t experienced in very long time (if ever at more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Just For Laughs
“Suffer to be beautiful.” It’s a saying I heard often in my childhood years as my mom struggled to get a comb through my angel fine mane in the mornings before school, and later as she tweezed my brows into the perfect Brooke Shields bushy arch through my adolescent years. But little did I suspect this notion of enduring minor pain for the sake of vanity would become somewhat of a theme throughout my life … and that it would only get harder – and more expensive – the older I got.
The expensive side of staying beautiful – or just “somewhat hot, for a mom” as my husband would put it – is where this warped perspective starts to intersect with the typical WoMo life. I mean, it’s one thing to forgo the pumpkin pie and hit the treadmill when the rest of the family is feasting and snoozing, but when the escalating price of various beauty treatments (facial peels, special creams, highlights, trainers, injections, extensions, nip/tucks, etc.) start to add up to a third or more of more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Looks: Is This Mirror Working?
All work and no play sucks. For anyone. So before you freak out completely, take a trip (kids and dad not included). An overtired and cranky WoMo needs a little diversion just like everyone else, but for some reason, we moms have a habit of depriving ourselves of "me time." Well not anymore, gals. I’m tired as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore! Need convincing? Here are more than enough reasons to pack your bags and your best gal pals and hit the road:
Me time. Yes, you need it. Lose the guilt. Lose the fear. It will not hurt your child if you leave for a weekend. The wee one will be fine and you will be amazed how a mere 24-48 hours with your girlfriends can rejuvenate you (mentally and physically).
Men do it. About 99% of you are nodding your heads. No doubt the hubby’s been to sporting events, birthday/bachelor parties (even for fringe acquaintances), camping, fishing, skiing or surfing trips, and most likely Vegas, at some point in the last year. Balance more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Girlfriend Gab, Looks: Is This Mirror Working?, WoMoLists
Inquiring minds want to know. So, here it is. My name is Marcie Carson, or some may know me as Marcie Baim, or even Marcie Carson Baim, sometimes with a hyphen, sometimes not. Take it from me, when you get married make a decision about taking his name or not and stick to it (IE Design produced a marketing piece not too long ago and my name appeared 3 different ways).
I got here because I met an 18-year old punk rocker 23 years ago at UCSB. It may sound corny, but I think we were supposed to be together, though I'm not sure why. I was the geek high school cheerleader and he was the rebel with spikes (it was right out of Valley Girl). He wore band buttons, pogo’ed to The Clash and drank Schaefer Light by the keg. I wore peg leg jeans, spent way too much time head-banging to the Scorpions and drank peach wine coolers until I puked (which was way too often). He was usually there to hold back my hair. It was a more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Party Girl
After finding scribbled lists strewn throughout our house, it occurred to me that the seven year-old was compiling his holiday wish list. A bit early, but as a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of gal, I appreciate the foresight. So what would appear on a WoMo wish list? Here are a few wants that seem oh-so-appropriate, but let me know what you think...
Wish #10: After all that pumping, please let my breasts return to their demi-buxom selves. (Too late option: can I just get a little boobie pick-me-up?).
Wish #9: Allow me the clarity to get out the door without forgetting something.
Wish #8: One frustration-interruption-free morning. Let's start with a little tranquility in the toilet (perhaps with a book or magazine), a peaceful shower (with time to shave my entire leg, both of them, and let’s throw the pits in there too), a complete and undisturbed beauty regimen (hair and make-up!) and let’s finish this hedonistic pursuit with a wrinkle-free ensemble (that I don’t have to spot-clean to wear).
Wish #7: Keys to a new sex drive.
Wish #6: Just once, only once…I wish the hubby more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Looks: Is This Mirror Working?, Pop! Culture, Time Is A Four Letter Word, WoMoLists
Now there are a lucky few gals out there who aren’t fully able to relate to the common catastrophes and perils of the WoMo. Here’s why: they are married to a chick dude. This is a term I've been using for a long time to describe a few of the guys in my life. The “chick” doesn’t mean to imply any sexual orientation (nor does my definition agree with Urban Dictionary, where the genders are oddly reversed). These fab guys have testosterone flowing, it just seems that they may have a bit more estrogen than most — making them the perfect companion for a working mom. Unlike the metro-male, the chick dude isn’t really all that vain. He might even be wearing wide wale cordorouy shorts from the grunge era, but he sure does know his way around BOTH a kitchen and a garage. He can navigate a grocery store as easily as HomeDepot. And, most important of all, he’s not afraid of any household cleaning appliance or accessory.
I didn’t marry a chick dude. No, I went for the classic more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Just For Laughs
Whew. It’s only 9am and its already been a crazy day. Actually, it’s been one of those weeks that flies by and I can’t believe that I might actually get away without a single WoMo stumble:
Monday: It’s a holiday. Chill out.
Tuesday: Get home from work at 8pm. Fumbled with hubby to get kiddos to bed by 8:45. Ate dinner at 9:15. Showered (no time in the morning). Worked on book. Bed 11pm. Consumed with job, woke up 4:30am.
Wednesday: Sport-junkie husband (and fit as a result, so I’ll hang in there) wanted the fam to watch his softball game after work. Cute. So I lugged kiddos 45 minutes by car, ate drive-thru, doused 3 or 4 tantrums, left prized sunglasses in disgusting park bathroom, watched game for 45 minutes, drove home 45 minutes. Tossed kids in bed. Worked until 10:30pm.
Thursday: Took 7-year old to soccer practice after work. Dinner at 7:30. Hubby went to his soccer game. Kids bedtime routine. Emails. Worked on blog. Read school paperwork that was sent home on Tuesday. Whoops.
Remember: MUST find time more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Guilt: The Bad G-spot, School Daze, Time Is A Four Letter Word
Lucky enough to live near two grandparents, the hubby and I have been pretty diligent about enforcing a weekly (or sometimes twice monthly) date night rule. Always after T has hit the hay, we throw on our one semi cool pair of jeans (yep, my guy still cares about his denim labels as much as me, sadly), and typically venture out for what always amounts to a 90 minute drink or two plus nibbles at a nearby restaurant in our neighborhood. There's an unsaid rule that we return home before the 11 p.m. news - let's just say the one time we stumbled in past midnight, chaos and fury ensued and we just barely lived to tell the tale. It goes without saying that for about 70 of the 90 minutes, we talk about T and all the cute/frustrating/adorable/perplexing/amazing things he has been doing, and about the last 20 are focused on work discussions. It's pathetic, but these are all we really have to talk about given the current focus of our daily lives, which leaves little room for the more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk
If your house is at all like ours, bath time is like taking a walk on the wild side (and not nearly as enjoyable as listening to the Lou Reed song). Truth be told, sometimes I can’t wait for it to be over. The hubby and I have been known to rochambo over the kitchen and the bath. Though we've never said it aloud, it's pretty clear by our faces, kitchen wins. So, what kind of people are we that washing dishes with food slop is better than washing the sweet bellies of our babies?
Smart people. Bath time = anarchy. My kids in a tub are like teenagers in a mosh pit. Screaming, bounding, splashing, thrashing, crying, surfing. Granted, they’re vying for control in a small space crowded with flailing limbs, toys and a lot of floating spongy things, but does it really have to be such ear-splitting chaos? And, it’s not over when you get them out. That’s the worst part. more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Juggling & Struggling, Just For Laughs
Who was the early-riser that determined school hours? Someone told me it had to do with farming. Hmm. So nearly a hundred years later, I have to drag my tired ass out of bed 5 days a week because the rooster crowed in rural America.
Our house was a flurry of activity by 7am. Pack lunches. Get dressed. Breakfast?...granola bar. Brush teeth (always a chore). Uh oh. Shorts are too small (if they don’t reach the calves: floods). Change. MUST remember: archive the old shorts for little brother. Shoes…where are shoes? Closet? Upstairs? Downstairs? Basement? Whew. Got my workout for the day. Ahh, of course, in the hamper. The 3-year old is crying. He wants it to be Easter.
In our haste to get out the door, the hubby and I somehow forgot about ourselves (a frequent symptom of parenthood). Exactly how were we planning to transport two littles in different directions and still get to the office on time? I still had bed head. Should have made a plan of attack the night before. Woulda, coulda shoulda.
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, School Daze, Time Is A Four Letter Word
First ever blog post. Where should I start? How about this: I was so damn clueless about working motherhood that I only took a 6-week maternity leave with my first baby (and I own the company!). Maybe that's why I decided to write a book about it — to give future working moms of the world a little warning. Is it foolish to need a warning for what seems to be an entirely obvious situation? (Here's a good one: "contains peanuts" on peanut butter). Well, maybe that's part of the problem, it's not so obvious.
I’m pretty good at what I do and I love my job at IE, so it's not like I would have quit, but I could have been a lot better prepared. Plus, it would have been nice for someone to give me a little dose of laughter amid all the chaos. I'm proud to say now, however, that seven years and several hundred sobbing breakdowns later, I figured out an arrangement that appears to work for everyone. My hubby (poor guy) learned the hard way, my coworkers altered more...
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Tags:Express Male: Hubby Talk, Juggling & Struggling, Time Is A Four Letter Word
